


Special Cookies

by Samuraiter



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Coming in Food, Large Breasts, Nipple/Breast Play, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:45:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samuraiter/pseuds/Samuraiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto makes cookies involving a special ingredient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlsaTronic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlsaTronic/gifts).



> This story takes place long after the show, and the Sailor Senshi are at university, studying together despite most likely all being at different schools. Normally, I keep it (relatively) clean on AO3 and leave all the porn on Dreamwidth, but the Smut Swap is a special occasion, and this particular prompt jumped out at me.
> 
> A tip of the hat goes to Aaron in '90s _Sailor Moon_ fandom for pioneering, in his stories, the fine art of Sailor Senshi self-loving. Here is another one for the tradition.

Makoto contemplated her futon, one hand twisting and untwisting the ties of her robe. _It's not that I can't believe I'm about to do this,_ she thought, _it's that I can't believe I've put so much effort into it_. She had already spread a towel on the futon, locked the door to her apartment, turned down the lights, and decided against any music, preferring the sound of the fan in her kitchenette as white noise. _Maybe I'm just annoyed that they won't know everything I had to do to make it happen? I mean, they won't know this is in the recipe_. A small smile, one she saved for herself. _I'm so bad, but I don't feel sorry_.

She sat on the futon, taking a deep breath and resting her hands on her knees, thinking back on the events that had led up to that day. There had been a long-running cliché in popular culture – especially in _doujinshi_ , she had noticed – about a young woman baking her juices into pastries as a secret gift to the boy she loved, and Usagi had mentioned it in passing during one study session. Makoto had managed to keep a straight face, and the others had waved it off, telling Usagi to be a good university student, put down her manga, and get back to reading up on her end-of-year exams.

But the idea had stuck, and Makoto, being a chef-in-training, had started wondering about it. _How would that even work? How much would I need? Would it even be noticeable?_ And she had rolled her eyes at herself upon realizing that she was more concerned about how to pull off the recipe than she was about its intimate contents. _Well, it doesn't have to be for a boy, right? I mean, it's just for somebody you love, and there's nobody I love more in the world than the girls, so there's no harm in testing it. I just won't say anything about it_. She only wanted the end result to taste good.

_The baking's a cinch,_ she thought, untying her robe and casting a skeptical eye to the small measuring cup she had on the small table next to the futon. _Really, it's just that one ingredient. I hope I can get enough without wearing myself out_. A small laugh. _I don't think it'll come to that, though. That's what all the research was for_. Because she _had_ researched it. Everybody masturbated. She did, all the Sailor Senshi did, and they all had different habits, practices, and preferences. But she had never done it strictly for the purpose of squirting as hard as possible. That presented a new challenge.

_It's all about taking my time_. She idly touched her breasts through the fabric of her robe, enjoying the soft friction of the white terry cloth against her bare skin. _I mean, it's one thing to just rub one out in a hurry in the morning before class_. She could already feel her nipples peaking against the fabric. _Not that it doesn't feel good, but it's pretty ... dry_. A little warmth in the pit of her stomach – the combination of anticipation and the beginnings of sensation. _The best ones are the ones where I don't have to be anywhere in a rush – the full-body ones. Have to do all kinds of different touches for that_.

She stood up and took off her robe, folding it over one arm before setting it aside and sitting down again. _Okay. I'm ready for this. Just have to be serious and not let my nerves get in the way_. She leaned back, spreading her legs, running one hand down the smooth skin of her belly, fingertips stopping shy of her center, her labia already starting to swell. _Just ... can't go right for it. Not yet_. She used her other hand to thumb her nipples, to tweak them and send little sparks down her spine. _That's more like it_. She did not exactly need breast play to orgasm, but it helped get her lubricated.

_And that's kind of the point_. Her cheeks flushed as she squeezed a breast, feeling a stiff nipple rubbing against her palm. _Well, one point. I'm here to enjoy this, too, right?_ The minutes started to stretch, and she forced herself to keep her hands off her clit, staying on her breasts, tugging her nipples and playing until she started to _itch_ to do more. _Don't know if I've ever kept on 'em this long before. Not sure I can come just from this, but ... it's not bad_. She shook her head. _Not here to compare notes, Makoto_. She realized that she had started breathing hard. _Okay. Maybe now I can give this a go_.

She put one hand between her legs, finding herself hot, moist, ready, but – _Is one time going to be enough?_ She stroked her labia, using two fingers. _Mmm. Guess we'll have to find out. Just have to not rush_. And she closed her eyes, continuing that stroke for a length of time that she did not bother counting, purposely avoiding her clit, using her free hand to keep paying attention to her breasts, and she kept at it until she could feel her moisture beading on her fingers. _O-okay, this should be about right. Now comes the tricky part_. She moved her fingers to her clit, but she maintained the same slow stroke.

_Ungh_. She _wanted_ to go faster, could feel her orgasm hovering just out of reach, but she had to make herself stay on that pace – edging, according to what she read, though that term normally applied to male masturbation, not her version. _W-whatever, orgasm delay is orgasm d-delay. Ungh!_ She could feel sweat on her brow. _Don't think I've ever worked this hard just to come_. Her breathing shortened, but stayed regular. _Even with the vibe_. Minako had recommended the make and model to her, and she had not asked any questions. _But that's for speed, and we're not here for ... speed. Right?_

She opened her eyes again after several minutes, looking up at the featureless ceiling, feeling warmth pooled in her insides, ready to escape her if she let it. _Okay. No holding back now. The last part is –_ She started going faster, a _lot_ faster, moving two fingers on her clit in a circular motion, sitting up, clenching her abdominal muscles. _Okay! Almost there!_ She reached for the measuring cup, too close to orgasm to care about how silly or embarrassing the gesture seemed. _If I get it all over the towel, it's all for nothing_. A lucid moment. _Well, I could just start again, but – no, no, we're coming_ now.

Her entire body clenched up, and she gritted her teeth, the heat inside her seeming to reach all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes before rebounding back to the pit of her stomach, and she gasped, shaking as she came, barely able to hold the measuring cup beneath her body as she raised herself slightly off the futon. _Oh, no! Don't drop it!_ But she managed to hold onto it, spasming until she was spent, allowing herself to droop onto the towel as she shakily returned the measuring cup to the small table. _Whew. I hope I got more than a few drops out of that. I feel like a flat tire_.

She lay there for a little while, eyes closed, taking deep breaths, letting her mind drift, setting aside that her legs felt like they had turned to water. _I don't know if I'd call that one the best, but it's definitely up there. Wow_. She forced herself to sit up, face flushed, entire body sweating, and she looked at the measuring cup. A sigh of relief: It was barely visible, but it was _there_ , just enough clear liquid to coat the bottom. _Well, I knew it wasn't going to be a geyser. I'll try it, see what happens_. She laughed internally. _Except now I have to make myself want to cook! I'd just as soon lay here_.

And she did. She had what she needed, and it was not about to go anywhere, so she allowed herself to be the good kind of tired. _Well, not tired, really. Sated, maybe_. She thought about the whole experience. _I don't think I'd do it that way every time, but I'll have to try it again_. She reluctantly sat up again. _Heh. I'd do the whole naked apron thing for cooking these, but I know better_. And she cast one eye to her small bathroom. _First things first, though. Can't be smelling like sex when they show up later_. On shaky legs, she made her way to her shower, shaking her head and smiling to herself.

One shower – and one batch of special cookies – later, after the girls showed up at her apartment for the next study session, Makoto received a four-star review – or, in the case of Usagi, a garbled "This is good!" from a full mouth – on the snack she had made, though she smiled beatifically upon being asked what she did differently. Ami might have raised a brow, and Minako might have offered a quick wink when the others were not looking, but the others seemed perfectly content to eat the cookies, down to the last one, and break up the monotony of facts, figures, and repetition.

**END**.


End file.
